


Worth A Billion Broken Hearts

by WiredRoses



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, I hate tagging, M/M, Mainly angst, Smut, my attempt at smut B-), soft bois, the triple threat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 18:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20295718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiredRoses/pseuds/WiredRoses
Summary: “You’re telling me,” Seonghwa deadpanned, “that you left the party alone and didn’t sleep with anyone?”Wooyoung watched San gave him an innocent smile, batting his lashes and everything. “I need a break every once in a while. It’s a hard life.”Seonghwa snorted. “Yeah, right.” A ripple of laughter went around the table but Wooyoung’s attention was strictly on one person. That person turned his head and met his eyes. San winked, a little reminder of the secret they shared.





	Worth A Billion Broken Hearts

Under almost any circumstance, a snort in the midst of laughter was unattractive. Sure, it was easy to argue that it was ‘cute’, but that was only if the other person was as well. So why was Choi San’s snort right in the middle of his ridiculous laugh so damn attractive? 

Wooyoung felt a surge of lust shoot through his body and if he hadn’t just finished fucking the other senseless he would’ve pounced right onto where San lay on his unmade bed. “What.” 

“I don’t know,” San said between his giggles. “Just you standing there, in all your naked glory, is making me laugh.”

“Did you really just say ‘in all your naked glory’ outloud?” Wooyoung bit back his own laugh at the situation, but he put his underwear back on. Even from their own perspectives, it was weird, and that was saying something. Wooyoung tilted his head to admire the slope of San’s back, who was draped across his bed, fully unclothed. His hair was a mess and his lips were swollen enough that if he left right now, everyone would know what just happened. 

“Yeah,” San licked his lips. “And I can tell you want to say it too, judging by the way you’re staring at me, right now.”

Wooyoung grinned. “I can’t help it, you have such a nice ass.” He nodded at the part he mentioned. 

“Oh? Is that why you shoved your dick in it like you wanted to tear it apart?” San said and this time Wooyoung did dive. He tackled San who gave a muffled scream and tried scrambling away. It wasn’t long before Wooyoung straddled him between his thighs. Were it not for the underwear, this would’ve been the same position they were in twenty minutes ago, albeit, reversed. San had a penchant for examining Wooyoung’s body before they fucked. Wooyoung wondered how many of his other fuck buddies and one night stands he did this with, too.

He shoved the thought out of his head by grabbing San’s hair and pulling it back until his chin was tilted up. The fresh marks of the bites he made glowed beneath his jawline and Wooyoung preened. “It’s a nuisance,” he growled.

“It’s god’s gift,” San countered.

Wooyoung scoffed. “You give yourself too much credit, I’m doing all the work here.”

“But it’s _my_ ass that started this whole ordeal,” San crooned and Wooyoung stiffened. This gave San the chance to bring his head up, closer to the other. “Don’t think I didn’t see the way you stared longingly after it? During lunch with the others, at every party, throughout class.” He clicked his tongue as he listed off the many instances Wooyoung can unfortunately recall in that moment. 

But he wasn’t going to let him have his win. “Well would you look at that, guess you were, what? Watching me? Closely?”

San just laughed again. Not hard enough to snort this time, unfortunately. It seemed San was done with this little exchange because he opted for a simple: “Yeah, and I always get _ who _ I want.”

That went straight to Wooyoung’s dick but before he could go down and act on it, San mustered his strength and squirmed out of Wooyoung’s thighlock. 

“Gotta go, it’s an early class tomorrow and Yeosang is gonna kill me if I’m late for it… again.” 

Wooyoung leaned back to let his friend leave more smoothly. Because that’s what they really were: best friends. For almost seven years and counting. This… thing between them was only as a result of recent developments. Purely physical and purely secretive. As it should be. “Is this that compsci elective you took?” He leaned back on his elbows to watch San get changed. 

“Yeah – _ fuck _ , this shirt is too _ complicated _– it was literally the dumbest decision I’ve ever made. Watch, I’ll complain about it tomorrow at lunch too, I swear to god.” San ranted, struggling with his shirt that had a few too many buckles. 

Wooyoung simply observed him for a few moments before speaking. “How the hell do you manage to be some kind of sex god when we’re sleeping together but the second we’re done you’re some fucking useless, bumbling idiot.” 

“Hey! I’m charming!” San pointed a finger gun at him, a faux threatening move he always did. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wooyoung waved him off. “Now get out, or you’re one-hundred-percent missing that class tomorrow. Try not to make too much noise, my neighbours are gonna hear you, we don’t want that, do we?” He grabbed his phone just to show San the time had already passed into the brutal morning hours. 

San looked up from where he was sliding on his pants. “_ Fuck _.” Wooyoung laughed at that. His best friend grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet, slid the latter two into his back pocket and headed for the door. “Text me when you’re out of class tomorrow, we’re meeting the gang somewhere, I don’t know.”

“‘The gang’, San? That’s such a bad name for us –” 

“Okay, bye! Text me!” He shouted as he slammed the door shut. Wooyoung was left to laugh a little, until a silence took his room into its grasp. 

And with silence, came his thoughts. He thought about who was going to ask about San’s new hickies, he predicted Seonghwa or Yeosang; he thought about how much San was going to complain about his stupid elective; he thought about if San was going to text him about the dumb shit he saw throughout the day, again. 

An evident theme when it came to his thoughts, was that they were always about Choi San. 

Three months ago, they’d been at some frat party that Wooyoung had absolutely hated. _ Really, really _hated. The drinks were cheap, the music was terrible, there was some nasty odour in the house that wouldn’t go away no matter how many of those shitty drinks he poured down his throat. He was in the centre of the mosh pit that had formed, swaying slightly, chugging whatever he had in his hand, having lost his friends when a hand circled around his waist. 

The person leaned in close, right at the lobe of his ear and whispered: _ Wooyoungie, I’m so drunk. _ And that had been it. That was all it took for every sexual feeling to burst out of his dam. He’d pounded into Choi San so hard that the latter could barely walk the next day. 

They’d both admitted what a mistake it’d been and yet, two weeks later they found themselves in a similar situation. Then another week passed. And another. Until the texts were regular, short, and decisive, and it was no longer awkward when they met up the next day. 

He sighed as he rolled out of the sheets to get ready for bed. The shower water was loud, acting as background music for the thought that plagued his mind the most often: how long until it was acceptable to admit when one side of a fuckbuddy system was catching feelings?

❖

Wooyoung was right. 

Well, he was half right, technically. 

Seonghwa was the first person to notice and the first one to ask. “What the fuck – again, San?” he sighed. “It was a school night, my god.”

San just laughed, a melodic sound that graced this terrible weathered afternoon. “Don’t be so quick to assume, Seonghwa. How do you know I slept with someone?”

“You always do,” Mingi chimed.

“That’s not true,” San quickly countered, his mouth falling into a little pout that Wooyoung decided was not too healthy for his already unstable heart. The five of them, including Yeosang, were sitting at a cafe, waiting for the other three of the ‘gang’ to arrive, and San had inexplicably, terrifyingly, and disgustingly, made the decision to wear a giant, purple sweater. It was so frustratingly oversized that his fingers were only just peeking out the sleeves when he moved. Wooyoung was a known sucker for cute things but this extreme case of sweater paws was almost too much for even him. It was distracting. Too, too, too distracting. And it was making his heart do some weird flips in his ribcage. 

Without a word, he reached over and pulled San’s sleeves until they were almost at his elbow. The other man stared at him quizzically but Wooyoung just shrugged it off. Though once he’d finished the deed, he realized that maybe it wasn’t the smartest move after all. Because now, his arms were exposed and he must’ve been working out right before this because there were still lines of veins protruding from his skin –

“You’re telling me,” Seonghwa deadpanned, “that you left the party alone and _ didn’t _ sleep with anyone?”

Wooyoung watched San gave him an innocent smile, batting his lashes and everything. “I need a break every once in a while. It’s a hard life.”

Seonghwa snorted. “Yeah, right.” A ripple of laughter went around the table but Wooyoung’s attention was strictly on one person. That person turned his head and met his eyes. San winked, a little reminder of the secret they shared. 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the small smile from reaching his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yeosang give him a questioning glance, but he just returned it with another shrug. There was no need to draw attention to that, right now. 

“What are we talking about?” Yunho said by means of entrance. He had Hongjoong and Jongho in tow, the former looking frustrated at something in his hands. They all moved a bit to make room for the newcomers. 

“San’s sex life,” Seonghwa said before shoving a fry in his mouth from the bag Jongho brought. 

“So, the usual, then,” Yunho commented and Mingi nodded, looking dejected. “Shall we change it up for once?” 

Before anyone could even ask what the hell that meant Yunho turned, dramatically, in his seat and looked at Wooyoung with an evil glint in his eyes. The recipient of the _ glint _ had his hand in the air, mid-fry consumption, but stared back, bewildered. “What?”

“How’s _ your _ sex life, Wooyoung?”

A series of fake vomit noises and simultaneous groans went around the table, the most obnoxious noises coming from none other than Choi San himself. Wooyoung shot him a murderous look and San threw his hands up in surrender. “What the _ fuck _? Why would that be a question you’d want to ask?”

Yunho grinned, widely. “Is that your subtle way of telling us that you have no sex life?”

“What? No!” Wooyoung blurted before he could even think about what he was saying. The second his mind caught up with his mouth he regretted it. 

Another eruption encompassed their corner. “Are you serious?” someone shouted, “who the fuck?” another voice chimed, “Wooyoung?” a third spluttered. 

Wooyoung felt like his tongue wasn’t going to work if he tried to speak. All his instincts yelled at him to look at San for help, but the rational part of his mind sorted his instincts into the ‘useless’ section of his brain. “You expected so little of me? Really?”

“It’s not belittling not to have a sex life,” Jongho spoke up for the first time. Wooyoung noticed for the first time that the other was carrying a bag of baby carrots. Odd, but he had bigger worries. 

“True,” Yeosang said, “but it’s _ weird _ if we’re talking about Wooyoung suddenly calling it quits, don’t you think?”

“Yep, so true,” Seonghwa clapped his hands, “which is why I’m telling you guys I saw him pressed up against one of the frat boys, it looked like it was getting to steamy to stay there – _ holy shit _ , Hongjoong what the _ fuck is that?! _” 

Every single one of them whipped toward the quietest member who was still staring strangely at his hands in his lap. Well, all of them aside from Jongho, who was already looking at the elder. Wooyoung, who sat on the opposite side, stood up to see what he had in his hands. “It’s a hamster,” he deadpanned, “Hongjoong, why the _ fuck _ do you have a hamster in your damn hands?” 

“My music theory prof has a family emergency and asked if someone could take care of his hamster while he was gone,” Hongjoong explained, casually as if this wasn’t such an odd situation. 

A beat of silence. “Hongjoong that literally doesn’t explain why you’ve got it in your _ hands _, though?” Yeosang threw his hands out in exasperation. This caused a flurry of arguments that left no person out. 

Except for one. He could feel it, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he turned around to find San staring right at him. No humour or energy in his eyes as there always was. Just plain staring. He raised an eyebrow in question. But San just shook his head. 

❖

Wooyoung placed kisses, softly, along the front of San’s bare chest. It had taken them all but an hour in that party to fuck off and head right for Wooyoung’s room. It had taken them another thirty seconds inside the room until San had completely stripped the both of them. And another minute before San was pressed down against the bed, gasping lightly as Wooyoung hovered over him. 

There was something so soft about this, even though they both knew how roughly it was going to end. 

“What do you want, baby?” Wooyoung murmured against San’s chest, his voice was already dangerously low, as low as his voice could actually go. 

The air was cut by a sharp gasp when Wooyoung probed a finger high on San’s thigh. Wooyoung tilted his head just to observe his face. San’s eyes were shut tight and his mouth was stretched thin with pleasure and, to Wooyoung, it’s a spectacular sight. He moved his finger a little to the left and the gasp came out higher, sharper this time. Just the way he knew it would. “You,” San replied, struggling to form coherent words through his gasps, “I want you.”

“I know, baby,” Wooyoung lifted his finger and San let out a desperate moan, his hand reached out to pull him back but Wooyoung caught the stray arm and shoved it back against the bed. “But what do you want _ right now _.”

He knew what the answer would be. Reading San came from years of experience, both as his best friend and as the person he constantly slept with. He knew San was going to tell him to fuck into him until he couldn’t walk. Until class the next day was nothing more than an unlikely wish. 

He had just begun to reach toward the bedside table, to grab the condom and lube when –

“I want to suck you off.”

_ What the fuck _.

He must’ve said it outloud. He definitely said it outloud. And yet, the intensity of San’s eyes betrayed nothing. 

“San.” Wooyoung started, bringing his hand back from the drawer. “You hate giving blowjobs.” He raised a brow.

San didn’t seem to be listening; with a surge of strength he flipped their positions. “I’ll do it for you,” there was an edge to his voice that Wooyoung hadn’t heard before. What he had heard were the countless times San complained about numerous hookups begging him to blow them. And how he’d absolutely despised it every time. 

But that edge in his voice, the desperation in his eyes, drove him somewhere else. His own lust blinded his basic best friend instincts. 

He blinked. “Jesus, fuck, okay.”

Wooyoung shifted until he was sitting with his back against his headboard. He stared at the other man expectedly, who was currently moving into the position he found the best. San, contrary to popular belief, was unlikely to be very skilled, let alone good at blowjobs. 

So Wooyoung almost had a heart attack when slid on faster than he’d ever received before. “_ Fuck, _” he whispered as he threw his head back and hit it loudly against the board. He felt the breath of San’s laughter right as he moved his tongue down the vein of his dick. 

Wooyoung could barely breathe when San began working his way from the tip all the way down the sides, making sure his tongue was doing an appropriate amount of work. 

“You feel amazing, _ baby _ ,” Wooyoung managed in between gasps that were getting increasingly louder. And he did. San’s mouth was so warm it was taking all of his self-restraint not to fuck into his mouth. He wasn’t sure how often San did this but _ fuck _ if he wasn’t already amazing at it. “It’s not fair that you’re good at this, too,” he mumbled before releasing a groan that was sure to wake any neighbours. 

His edge was building. His orgasm was building up all because of San’s damn _ mouth _. He made a low growling noise in his throat that reverberates over his entire dick and up his spine, until Wooyoung was arching against the headboard. It triggered his instinct to reach forward and grab San’s hair. He tugged, hard. San let out the most satisfied whine.

And their eyes met. And seeing San’s red rimmed, half closed eyes, his dark, dusted cheeks, his pink, swollen, swollen, swollen lips around his cock. That was it. That was all it took to drive him over the edge. 

“San, I’m gonna come,” he moaned. It was more a warning for his best friend than anything. San didn’t move, just continued to work over the tip. “San!” he shouted.

And he came; San didn’t slide off until he was emptied of everything that had accumulated. There was nothing more terrifyingly beautiful than seeing San lick his lips to catch every last drop that escaped his mouth, and swallow it whole. It was almost enough to get him hard again.

Wooyoung collapsed on the pillows. “You’re going to be the death of me, Choi San,” he groaned. That stupid melodic laugh chimed in the room, until it was broken by the ever attractive snorting. Wooyoung looked up from where he had shoved his face into the pillow. “Seriously, how the fuck are you so good at that?”

San shrugged before climbing over and snuggling next to Wooyoung. “I just wanted to be perfect for you.”

“Shut the fuck up or I’m going to be hard again.” 

San blinked innocently. “Would that be so bad?”

Wooyoung looked down. “Speaking of hard…” He reached down to take the neglected cock in his hand. “Do you want me to return the favour or –”

“Just touch me,” San whispered taking a hand to comb through Wooyoung’s hair as he touched him. Wooyoung sank into the touch like a cat. Letting himself be pet while he stroked. It was a circular motion, like a cyclical system. “Your hair would look amazing, silver.”

Wooyoung snorted. “Dyeing is expensive.”

San nestled closer, almost not giving Wooyoung enough room to breath. And he thought that maybe this is almost as bad as the silence. Because if they weren't fucking, and if they weren't being best friends, then what were they doing? What was Wooyoung supposed to do when a flush of emotion ran down his spine and threatened to ruin the bridge they build toward each other.

San let out a soft sigh just before he followed him over the edge. “Dying is cheap.”

❖

Wooyoung scratched his newly dyed silver head. 

“Did the hairdresser do a bad job or something, Wooyoung? Why the fuck you keep itching at it like you got lice,” Yeosang quipped, eyeing his movements, closely. They were walking from the arts and humanities building to the science one, Wooyoung having forgotten some important papers. 

He scowled. “No. But they had to bleach it like three times and the only warning they gave me was _ after _, when they said ‘oh yeah, and it might be a bit itchy for a few days, don’t worry, though’ as if that’d help me.” 

“Well, that sucks,” Yeosang admitted, kicking a pebble to the side. 

“Yeah, it’s whatever, though,” Wooyoung sighed as they entered the department. They walked in silence for a few beats before Yeosang spoke again.

“What was with you and San the other day?” 

Wooyoung almost tripped over his own feet. _ Almost _. “What?”

“You guys were acting kinda weird, I don’t know,” his friend pursed his lips but he shrugged, “did you get in a fight or something?”

Wooyoung shook his head before realizing Yeosang wasn’t looking at him. “No, we never fight.” It was the truth, too. They were always on the same page, even before they started this… thing.

“Huh, don’t you think _ that’s _ weird?” Wooyoung blinked, Yeosang looked up, “what?”

“No, I just –”

“Hey!” An all too familiar voice called from down the hall. They both glanced up at the same time to see San jogging toward them. 

Yeosang furrowed his brow when he arrived. “You have class here?”

“Biochem elective,” Wooyoung and San answered, at the same time, automatically. San’s brows jumped up in surprise but he raised a hand to high five him, anyways. “Biggest regret of my life,” San added with a grin. 

“_ Second _ biggest,” Wooyoung corrected, matching his best friend’s expression. There was a beat of silence.

“Compsci!” they both called pointing at each other before they burst into laughter. 

Yeosang looked at them like they were petulant children. “Kill me.” He said with a roll of his eyes and walked ahead. Wooyoung and San, calming down from their fits, watched him walk off. Wooyoung was still grinning when he felt a tug at his hair. He turned toward San. 

He was toying with the strands, admiring the colour. “I knew you’d look amazing.”

Wooyoung felt lightheaded all of a sudden. “Yeah, well, you know best when it comes to hair,” he nodded toward San’s own newly bleached blonde head. 

“I know I do,” San stole another glance at Wooyoung’s locks before dropping his gaze. “Where are you two headed?” 

They fell into a comfortable walk side by side, not really aiming to catch up to Yeosang who was now chatting with someone. “I forgot something here, just came to pick it up,” he nodded toward their friend up ahead. “Yeosang happened to be with me.”

San clicked his tongue. “You could’ve just texted me to get it.”

“But then I wouldn’t have the chance to see you,” Wooyoung grinned, it was feline. San whipped around with eyes wide. “I’m kidding. I only just remembered you had class when we got here and saw you.”

San returned the grin. They walked a few moments in comfortable silence. Nothing they ever did seemed forced or out of the ordinary. The two of them had always had a natural chemistry that was unparalleled by anyone else in their group. “Well, that’s good then, ‘cause I wanted to see you.”

Wooyoung almost tripped over his own feet. “What? Why?”

“No reason,” San shrugged, as if Wooyoung’s earth wasn’t currently collapsing into him. “Just wanted to see your face.”

Wooyoung snorted. “What’s gotten into you lately?”  
“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been extra clingy, extra flirty, extra… you, I guess,” Wooyoung thought back to lunch where San had literally walked in and sat on his lap, something he’d never done in _ public _ before. 

“You don’t like when I’m me?” San asked, and for the first time in his life Wooyoung couldn’t tell if his tone was wounded or if it was sarcastic. He squashed the momentary panic that arose. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” he said, quickly, and louder than he intended. “I love y – _ when _you’re you. I love when you’re you. Don’t get me wrong.” His heart was suddenly beating way too fast and he was worried sweat beads would start forming along his hairline. 

San stared at him blankly for a moment, before breaking out into a giant smile. “That’s what I thought.” 

Even though San was obviously joking then, Wooyoung still wasn’t sure if his previous question was. There was a twinge of pain in his heart over the fact that he couldn’t recognize what the other man was trying to say. At a kind of loss for words was new between him and San. “You know, Yeosang asked me what was going on between us,” Wooyoung mentioned, simply just to fill the space between them. 

“He did?” San startled, “what did you say?”

“I asked him what he meant by that, and said he thought we were acting kinda strange,” Wooyoung pursed his lips. Yeosang was a little up ahead, not close enough to hear but Wooyoung dropped his voice into almost a whisper, anyways. “Are we acting weird?”

“Uh… no?” San raised his brows, he seemed surprised by the information. This, in turn, surprised Wooyoung because the fact was they _ had _ been acting weird. 

“Really?”

San sighed. “What do you want me to say, Wooyoung?” but he didn’t freak out and start throwing hands. He simply looked at Wooyoung, with a certain degree of hardness.

“I don’t know, San,” Wooyoung bit his lip. “Don’t you think we have been a little weird? You’ve sat on my lap, like, forty thousand times more this week than the rest of our years together combined.” 

San squinted. “Don’t even try to tell me you hate it, I know you don’t,” he whispered, his eyes returned to their normal size and he smiled widely. “And I can’t help if I like your thighs, give me a break.”

Wooyoung let out a long sigh. “I’m just saying that if Yeosang is catching on then maybe we should tone it down, in real life.”

“In real life?” something in San’s smile turned cold. “Am I just a game?”

“Isn’t that what we agreed on? Not to tell any of them?” Wooyoung furrowed his brows, maintaining the mask that hid his scratching heart. 

San’s smile shifted from cold to plastic in three slow, agonizing seconds. “Yeah. It is.” 

Yeosang waved the two of them over before Wooyoung could dwell on what that exchange meant. 

❖

The entire gang had rolled up for the frat party tonight. Or rather, it seemed the whole _ school _ rolled up. It was held in a larger mansion along the coast, a little ways from the campus. The bar was loaded to the roof with what seemed like actual, paid, professional bartenders for once. 

There were more and more people coming through the doors by the minute. They filled the garden where the ground was likely more pure vodka than it was grass and mud, anymore. They filled the rooms upstairs that were reserved for couples breaking away to scream in the face of righteousness. But, most of all, they poured into the giant space on the first floor where the lights shone brutally bright enough to resemble the dancefloor of a club. 

More bodies were grinding against each other without shame than they were actually dancing. Wooyoung willingly took part in it. Ever since his – could he call it an argument? – with San, he’d been on edge. And not in the good way.

So coming here, chugging the first bottle Mingi had bought, and joining the mosh pit that had formed in the centre, was the best idea he’d had in a while. 

“Wooyoung, wait! – Jesus, why do I bother, he’s gonna ignore me, anyways,” Mingi called just as he slipped away from the bar. 

Wooyoung was almost out of earshot to miss someone say “he didn’t stop ‘cause you’re not San” but not quite. 

He took another swig. Definitely vodka. 

They were playing a song he didn’t know, but it had deafening beats and screeching chords, which meant it was perfect. After a few moments, he was moving to every vibration in the ground. 

His vision was getting blurrier and blurrier by the second, the bottle in his hand was snatched but he didn’t care. He’d had more than enough of it to sway without a care. To drown out the never ending thoughts circling around his head. 

Before long there was a warmth behind his back. He took his chance to drape his head back until it was in the crook of the strangers neck. Wooyoung didn’t know what he was doing, but his swaying turned into grinding the second a hand came forward and fastened itself securely on his hip bone. His ass pressed into the strangers crotch. He wasn’t drunk enough not to recognize the hardness that he found. 

There was a smile on his face before he could help himself. He shut his eyes and ground right with the music. Letting it consume him and whoever it was that was getting far too handsy. He didn’t care, right then. If he wasn’t trying to shove all thoughts of San out of his head, he would’ve found alarms at the position they were in. 

His eyes were opened by some supernatural force. And it was by no one’s will other than whoever was fucking with him that his gaze landed right on the man he was trying _ not _to think about. 

San’s captor was beyond grinding. He was straight up ripping his shirt open. His hands were roaming far too candidly to be considered appropriate, even for a party, and he was sucking at San’s mouth so aggressively it was sure to come right off. 

Wooyoung’s mind may have been incapacitated, but his muscles weren’t. The hands on his body, the lips on his neck, the cock hard against his ass – they were all suddenly so wrong. 

His legs moved before he could think, straight toward the only person he wanted to touch. He stopped before them. Knowing his eyes were far too dark with alcohol to seem menacing. 

He grabbed San’s arm and pulled him off. Hard. The stranger stumbled forward like a newborn duck at the unexpected loss of contact. “What the –”

But Wooyoung didn’t give a shit what that man wanted to say. He only looked at San. Who was standing next to him, button-down torn open, chest exposed, with swollen lips and mussed hair. He looked so fucked through. And there was blood trickling down his chin.

A sudden surge of anger ripped through his skeletal system. “What the fuck?!” He turned and shouted. He turned on the other man so fast. “What the fuck did you do?!” 

The man, after having caught himself, looked between him and San, bewilderment evident on his face. “I didn’t do shit man,” he gestured at San, “he was enjoying it.”

“No.” Wooyoung bit out. He was seething. “He wasn’t.”

San said nothing, but he did finally break out of whatever trance he was in to touch where his lip was bitten to bleed. 

The man tried to speak again. But the second Wooyoung saw San wince as his finger made contact with the wound. “Get the fuck out of here.” 

“Excuse me?” the man started.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Wooyoung screamed and turned to him with a murderous glare. The man scoffed but did as he was told. If Wooyoung’s blood wasn’t boiling, he’d have been surprised at his compliance. 

It took him four seconds before he looked back at the man whose arm he was still grasping. When he did, he immediately regretted it. 

San’s eyes were heavily hooded and now his cheeks were flushed. He had way too much to drink. Wooyoung knew his best friend’s alcohol tolerance was high, which is why the fact that he was so wasted was extra brutal. “Come with me.”

San didn’t even react. He just followed as Wooyoung led him through the thick and ever growing crowd. Every once in a while, Wooyoung would look back, just to make sure he was still standing and not about to collapse into a mess on the ground. 

They reached the bathroom and Wooyoung locked it behind them without a second thought. “Get on the sink,” he instructed. San looked at him, swayed a bit on his feet, but walked over to the space beside the pristine sink. It seemed they had found one that hadn’t been used. Lucky them.

Wooyoung immediately began searching through the drawers for anything he could use. There were stacks of baskets in the one beneath the sink and he fumbled through them until he found what he was looking for. 

He stood back up to find San watching him through hazy eyes. Wooyoung wasn’t sure if he was even focusing on him. “Hey,” he softened his tone and, suddenly, San really was looking _ right _ at him. “Stay still, yeah?”

San nodded. The first sign of responsiveness he’d received. Wooyoung squeezed some of the antibiotic on the cotton bud. He reached up to cup half of his face with his left hand before gently applying the cream to the wound. San winced, again.

“Fuck that guy,” Wooyoung growled, still damn pissed.

A silence filled the room while Wooyoung finished up. The second he lifted his right hand off San’s face – casually leaving the other hand in the same position – San spoke. “I let him do it.”

“What?” Wooyoung asked, surprised. 

“I told him he could do whatever he wanted,” San replied, his expression still blank. 

“Well, that doesn’t give him the fucking right to rip your lip open, San,” he bent down to put everything back where he found it and toss the cotton.

Another beat of silence. “I got your attention, didn’t I?” 

Wooyoung slammed his head against the countertop. He let out a loud yelp and jumped back. “What?” his eyes were huge as he rubbed where he’d been _ attacked _. 

“I wanted your attention,” San repeated, with more strength, this time. “That’s how I got it.”

Wooyoung’s mouth suddenly felt really, really dry. “Why?”

San shrugged and broke eye contact by looking down and bumping his shoes together. If it weren’t for his exposed torso, he’d look adorable. “I just did.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung whispered, dropping his hand.

He leaned back against the wall and the silence, this time, lasted a while. Long enough for Wooyoung’s adrenaline to die down and for him to suddenly feel tired. To momentarily recall how San looked right after he’d pulled him off the other man. Like he’d been fucked. Literally. He knew he hadn’t been but his head felt heavy, nevertheless.

“Can we fuck?” San asked, out of the blue. 

To say that statement took Wooyoung by surprise was a severe understatement. “What?” he managed, but his voice sounded weak.

“Stop saying ‘what’ to everything I say,” San grumbled. He raised his gaze, finally, to meet Wooyoung’s again. “Just fuck me, Wooyoung, please.”

“San –”

“Can you just,” San let out a shuddering breath, “_ please _, for once, can you just do what I ask.”

Wooyoung took in the scene before him. San, practically half stripped, still had swollen lips, hooded eyes, and mussed hair. All of it was so unappetizing and, yet, Wooyoung was too whipped not to oblige. 

He moved forward with purpose. San’s legs moved apart on the countertop; just enough so Wooyoung could slide between them. He placed his hands on San’s hips. 

“I fucking hate this mess on you,” Wooyoung’s voice came out low, and it grumbled with disgust. But not at San. Never at him.

San hooked his arms around Wooyoung’s neck. “Cover it all up, then, baby,” he whispered. 

Wooyoung leaned in and locked his lips against the other man’s, careful of the new wound. San responded by opening up immediately; Wooyoung’s tongue slid in without hesitation. He felt the familiar warmth of San’s mouth as he explored it, licking every inch as though the taste of alcohol made it brand new. He slid off the rest of San’s shirt just because he was desperate enough to want to feel the curves of San’s arms, shoulders, and collarbones beneath his fingers.

He pressed his lips hard; hard enough that he was almost screaming _ was the man before me worth it? am I anything to you? am I better than the rest of them are? _

But San would never hear his pleas. 

They broke apart in a fit of gasps. “Get off.”

San slid off until they were chest to chest, Wooyoung’s shirt was the only thing separating them from being skin to skin. 

And, suddenly, that was gone too. Along with both their pants. And Wooyoung couldn’t get enough of the feeling of San’s purple, swollen lips against his. He was so infuriatingly whipped. 

He reached for the rim of San’s boxers and slowly, painfully slowly, he slid them down. Revealing the part he was so familiar with. But San’s gasps made everything feel like a new experience. Like they hadn’t been in this position a hundred times before. 

San’s body was a drug that kept Wooyoung addicted, coming back for more. 

He was about to reach for his own boxers when he had a stark realization. “Shit, I don’t have lube or a condom.”

“Wooyoung, what the fuck? You’re always the one that –” San groaned.

“Hey! We had a fight today, not my fault I didn’t think we’d be in this position –”

“That was a _ fight _?” 

“_ Not my fault I didn’t think we’d be in this position _,” Wooyoung repeated, snapping slightly.

“Jesus, why aren’t you just prepared in general, though, huh? For anyone else you might be sleeping with?” San hissed.

“If I was sleeping with someone else, I’d take them home where I _ already have my shit _, idiot,” Wooyoung hissed right back and San groaned in frustration, again. Wooyoung wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass, though. He dropped to his knees and opened the drawer again. He reached into the back and pulled out a basket he vaguely recalled. “Okay, what the fuck who only keeps lube in a bathroom,” Wooyoung complained. 

He tossed it up and San caught it, casually. “That’s dumb.”

Wooyoung sighed from where he was crouched. “Okay, okay, you know what?” he began, looking up at San’s desperate expression. “You get yourself ready, I’ll go find a fucking condom in this damn mansion.” 

San blinked. “Are you serious?” 

Wooyoung was already sliding on his shirt, not bothering with all the buttons so his chest was half exposed. “Yep.”

He unlocked the door and slid out, leaving a baffled San behind him. He hoped the other would have the brains to at least lock the door. 

Wooyoung worked his way through a group of drunk girls, who were stumbling more than they were actually walking. He broke out into the dance room, sliding between the grinders and dancers to get to the opposite side where he knew the stairs leading upstairs were. 

He’d almost gotten through when he felt someone grab his arm. He whipped around, ready to punch whoever was stopping him right now. 

“There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!” Seonghwa shouted, and even then he could barely be heard above the sickening music. 

“Yeah! Me too!” he lied. “But I gotta go now!” 

Seonghwa took one look at his half unbuttoned shirt and shook his head. Not the best liar, but Wooyoung didn’t really care the moment an image of San with his fingers curled inside him flickered in his mind. He broke free and moved as quickly as he could, exiting the mob without a scratch. 

He stumbled up the stairs, narrowly avoiding a couple that looked about ready to tumble down. He opened the first door on the right and almost upchucked his dinner when he saw a girl stripping off her top. She screamed and dove behind the bed right as Wooyoung slammed the door shut. Panting, he looked at the handle and saw a sock hanging from it. Occupied. 

He looked down the hallway. Every door had a fucking sock. Wooyoung was about ready to risk it all and go back in just to rob whatever they had on them when he spotted his knight in shining armour at the end of the hallway. 

Yunho appeared on the other end of the hallway, a girl attached to his face as they made out and stumbled toward the storage room door. 

But what really caught his attention was the blue square package that Yunho was pulling out of the back of his jeans. Without thinking, Wooyoung sprinted up to them. 

The second he reached, he leaned forward and plucked the square out of his hand. “You’re saving a life tonight, Yunho!” he shouted over his shoulder as he catapulted down the stairs. Yunho’s expression was that of absolute disbelief. 

Wooyoung pushed people aside as he kept his run until he reached the door of the bathroom. He pushed down on the handle before even thinking about it being locked. To his surprise, it opened and he stumbled in, barely catching himself. He didn’t even get to close the door when he glanced up and saw San sitting back up on the sink countertop. 

He saw the position San was in. 

Before his jaw could fully hit the ground he whipped around and slammed the door shut.

Slowly, ever so painfully slowly because he wasn’t sure if he could handle what he was about to see, again, he turned back around. 

He could barely tell where San was looking because his eyes were so _ hooded _ . His legs were spread wide across the surface and his fingers were reached around and _ moving _inside him. Three of them. Three.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Choi San,” Wooyoung croaked. His voice betrayed him devilishly. 

“I know,” San’s entire voice shook and Wooyoung’s knees almost buckled right then and there. 

Wooyoung slowly slid off his shirt and undid his pants. His hands were shaking when he took off his boxers and let his cock come free. He tore open the condom with his mouth, knowing full well it was dangerous but he _ really _ didn’t trust his hands.

When he’d finally managed to get it on and slide over until he was staring straight at San, he’d almost stopped shaking. “Baby,” his voice was so, so, so low. “Take your fingers out.”

He obliged almost immediately. 

Wooyoung observed the puckered hole before glancing up to San’s face. He was going to die. He reached forward and gently pulled San until he was sitting at the edge of the counter, lined up with Wooyoung’s cock. 

“Please, Wooyoungie,” San whined, a shot right at his heart. 

Wooyoung slammed in without another warning. He didn’t bother easing his way in, knowing full well San would only grab and beg for more. This way, he got San’s instantaneous gasping. 

“Wooyoung, holy shit, _ Wooyoungie _,” he cried into Wooyoung’s neck as the other man fucked into him hard, relentlessly, and unforgiving. He lost the rhythm soon into it because he was so focused on fucking out the anger he held against the other.

“You were going to choose him over this?” Wooyoung growled into his hear. 

“No!” San gasped, without hesitation. “No, baby – ah – I would never, baby.”

That only increased his lust, his adrenaline. He changed his angle, pounding in harder, right at where he knew San’s prostate was. “That’s what I thought.”

The pitch of San’s gasps rose as he got closer and closer to his orgasm. Wooyoung wouldn’t be far behind. He drove in harder. Harder. Faster. Faster. Until his thighs were screaming and his hips were bucking from the desperation in his blood.

“Woo – _ holy shit _, Wooyoung,” San was halfway between screaming and gasping. “I’m going to come, baby.”

Wooyoung lifted a hand and brought it to San’s hair. He tore his head back and tilted it until he was looking him dead in the eyes. “Then come for me, baby.”

San did. All over his stomach as he leaned back onto the mirror. “Wooyoungie.” And just that was enough for Wooyoung to follow. He emptied into the condom, following his orgasm by riding it out on San. 

When they were both just a panting, sweating, swollen-lipped mess, Wooyoung pulled out. He leaned against the wall behind him. “We should’ve fucking chosen a bathroom with a shower.” 

“First of all, you picked the bathroom, remember?” San countered, sliding off the sink top to grab his clothes. “Two, what, you fucked me, and now you want to shower with me?” his tone changed to something ferociously flirtatious and Wooyoung was sure he was going to vomit. 

“You’re the one that begged me to fuck you,” Wooyoung raised a brow. He picked his shirt off the ground and shook it out. 

“Okay, was that really _ begging _, though?” San asked. 

“Yeah, of course it was, you were ready to claw at me to get your way.” 

“I don’t think –”

They were cut off by the door handle suddenly being pushed down. They snapped their heads at the same time. The door opened because Wooyoung _ didn’t fucking lock it _ –

“Wooyoung? Are you in –” Yeosang trailed off when he stuck his head in and saw them, “– here…”

It didn’t matter that they were almost fully clothed, that only Wooyoung’s shirt was unbuttoned. It didn’t matter that they were both standing in a normal position. There was a used condom sticking out of the rubbish bin, there was an opened bottle of lube on the countertop. Both their lips were swollen beyond belief, San’s hair was mussed, Wooyoung’s neck had a blooming mark on it. It didn’t matter that they were fully clothed because the bathroom _ reeked _of sex.

“Holy shit,” Yeosang said after a moment, after he’d gathered his jaw that had dropped slack to the ground. “Are you serious, are you _ kidding _ me right now?”

They both just stared at him. 

“Really? Not one of you is going to say anything?” 

They looked at each other, then back at him. Wooyoung was speaking before San could even open his mouth. “Don’t tell the others.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Yeosang sounded so exasperated. Then he looked right at San. “Really, dude?” San clenched his jaw. Wooyoung supposed he should’ve focused on what that meant but he didn’t.

He whipped to San. “You didn’t lock the door?”

San’s lips fell apart, similar to Yeosang’s. “_ I _ didn’t lock the door? You were the last one back!”

Technically true. “Then you should’ve reminded me!” he shouted. “You’re always the responsible one, why did you suddenly have faith in _ me _?”

“Oh, please –”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Yeosang cut in with a grand silencing gesture. “What do you mean ‘always’. As in, you guys do this _ often _?” 

They were both silent. That was enough.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Yeosang sighed and turned toward the door. Wooyoung moved to speak but the other just said over his shoulder, without looking back: “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

Then they were left alone. A low thumping noise from the outside music filled the space. 

“Well, shit.” 

❖

Wooyoung stormed out of the party with a giant thorn in his side. All he could think about was that Yeosang had seen them and that it meant the end for whatever they had. He had a hard time believing San would continue now that they were found out. He worked his jaw, grinding his teeth as he walked without much purpose, but with a lot of frustration. 

“Wooyoung!” an all too familiar voice called from behind him. He ignored it. He couldn’t deal with this, right now. “Wooyoung, wait!”

San jogged up behind him and grabbed onto his shoulder, forcing him to stop. “What do you want, San?”

He didn’t turn around; San circled him until they were facing each other. “We need to talk.”

“I get it, okay,” Wooyoung looked at him, hard. “I should’ve locked the door.”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about, Wooyoung,” San sounded stressed, with a devious hint of desperation. 

“Then what?”

“I need to tell you something –” San began. He looked like he was turning green.

Alarm bells went off in Wooyoung’s head. He couldn’t take a rejection from San. He never could. And if he let San finish his sentence, he would break down on the spot. He would say goodbye to his stupid heart and its stupid feelings for a stupid man. 

“I know, okay,” Wooyoung snapped. “I fucking know.”

San paled; Wooyoung hadn’t even known someone could pale that much. “You know?”

“Oh I definitely do.” 

“How?” San’s voice quivered but Wooyoung wasn’t having any of it. “Yeosang?”

Wooyoung scoffed. “I’d gather that much was obvious.” San really looked like he might throw up. “And you know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m so fucking over it.”

With that, he stepped around San, who was gaping on the pavement, and walked away. But he couldn’t help the two glances he stole back to see if San was still there. The second time, he was gone. 

❖

They were gathered around a random table in the communal food hall for almost half an hour when Wooyoung’s leg started bouncing, working off his excess nervous energy. 

San hadn’t shown up. 

Now, were it just based off the events of the previous night, it wouldn’t have mattered. But Wooyoung had texted him quite a few times afterwards, trying to apologize, but San hadn’t replied to any of them. 

When he brought his hand up to bite at his fingernails out of pure anxiety, Yunho spoke up. “What’s with you?” 

Wooyoung hesitated. “Nothing,” he replied.

“You don’t know where he is?” Yeosang raised a brow from across him. 

He let out a sigh. “Do you?”

Yeosang shook his head. 

Wooyoung returned to his leg bouncing. “Not gonna lie, your leg’s kinda stressing me out, man,” Hongjoong nodded toward it. 

“Sorry,” Wooyoung mumbled and attempted to cease it. It only lasted a few seconds before his mind trailed off and he was going again. 

“I’m going to rip it off, Wooyoung,” Yeosang glared and the way Seonghwa was looking at him, he was bound to help. 

He pursed his lips. “I’m heading off, I’m gonna… finish my assignment.”

Yeosang snorted. “Sure, tell San I say hi.”

Wooyoung left before anyone else could say anything, but mostly so he wouldn’t have to address that. 

His immediate thought was that San would be at his dorm. It was still midmorning and though San was supposed to have class, he knew he hadn’t shown up. Which wasn’t the most surprising thing but it worried him nonetheless. 

Wooyoung made his way toward Thessa house, where San’s dorm was. He was very, very, very familiar with the way to get there. The quickest ways to get there were his speciality. Jogging through the herb garden cut the journey by almost ten minutes and parkouring over the low fences near his own dorm cut down another four. 

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of San’s door. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst. Wooyoung had just lifted his hand to knock when the door opened with a rush of wind. 

A man was standing in front of him. He was slightly taller, just barely, and he had silver hair. Most obviously, his shirt wasn’t buttoned right. Wooyoung blinked. San appeared behind him, wearing the same clothes from last night. 

Wooyoung connected the dots. He looked at the man’s hair. Back at San. At the man’s shirt. Back at San. 

“What the fuck –”

“Sorry! I was just on my way out,” the man spoke quickly, and he gave Wooyoung an apologetic glance as he passed by him. 

Wooyoung felt like his feet were made of concrete. That he was cemented in the ground and he couldn’t move. The guy smelled like San. 

Eight and a half months ago, for his birthday, Wooyoung had gifted him a fragrance that had taken over $400 out of his account. He’d just began crushing on San and his wallet had screamed for over three months afterwards. But it had been worth it. San had been ogling the cologne in the store for months and seeing his face light up beyond the milky way had been so, so, so terribly worth it.

San hadn’t let anyone touch it. Not a single person, even Wooyoung, who’d bought it, wasn’t allowed to use it. He’d almost lost a hand last time he’d tried. 

Which meant the man walking out had it on him for another reason. 

He felt like he was going to throw up, pass out, or maybe he’d do them both, consecutively. 

His eyes weren’t focused, his vision was hazy as he stared at San. The other man had walked forward, he was now leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.  
But Wooyoung’s mouth was too dry to speak. He’d always known that San had other hookups, he wasn’t sure how many of them were as consistent as he was, but he knew they existed. The only difference this time, was seeing one, in the flesh, right after the deed. That hadn’t happened before. 

“Hey,” San broke the awkward tension between them. 

Wooyoung would’ve jumped out of his skin if he wasn’t so dizzy. He forced himself to stop twitching. “I texted you.” Such a dumb thing to say, but he blurted it before he could regain full control over his mind. 

San bit his bottom lip. “I know,” he said, calmly, “I only saw them just now, sorry.”

_ Because you were busy last night? _Another wave of nausea. “Oh.”

“It’s kinda come to my attention that we were both referring to different things last night, that’s my bad.”

“That’s why I came, I mostly just felt really bad and wanted to apologize.”

San didn’t react. He didn’t even move for a few seconds; Wooyoung started feeling a little awkward again. “Is that it?”

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung sighed, exasperated. 

“I mean is that it? I apologized, you apologized. What now?” San pressed. 

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung furrowed his brows. 

“Then I guess we’re done here, right?” San pushed himself off the wall but he didn’t turn to shut the door, suggesting there was something more.

Wooyoung threw his hands out. “What do you want me to say, San?”

San looked at him, hard, not in anyway he’s stared at him before. It was like he was searching for something in the shadows of Wooyoung’s eyes. His expression was relentless, but Wooyoung couldn’t figure out why. “I guess I don’t want you to say anything. It’s ended between us, right? You said so yourself.”

Wooyoung snorted. “You’re making it sound like a breakup.”

“Well,” San’s voice was cold, distant, unlike any tone he carried with Wooyoung before. “That can’t be possible. We were never dating.”

His heart stuttered at the words. He had to remind himself over and over again that they were nothing more than best friends with a penchant for getting each other off. Nothing more. Never anything more. “That much was clear.” He matched San’s tone and he found that this was almost worse than anger; this seething exchange. 

“Okay,” San nodded once, it wasn’t friendly. “You can go now. I have class.” He didn’t turn around. 

But Wooyoung had experienced anger enough to know that this was when he had to leave. Slowly, he faced away from San’s piercing gaze and made his way toward the stairs. 

❖

Three days later and Wooyoung was beginning to feel the side effects of losing a best friend. Rather, losing a best friend you were way too romantically involved with but on an unrequited level. In other words: it sucked. 

The first night, he’d stayed home, deciding that this was the way things were meant to be and that he deserved some time to wallow in his self-pity. 

The second night, he’d been invited out and he went, but the second anyone hit on him, he’d stiffen and turn away, unable to bear it.

The third night, he’d decided _ fuck it _ because San wasn’t going to be depressed forever and neither was he. 

He slept with three different people that night. 

His eyes felt glued shut but he pried them open. The first thing he did was blindly reach for his phone – the time showed nearly three p.m. He groaned and rolled in the bed. He had a headache, it was extraordinarily painful and Wooyoung was sure he was going to need to chop it off to reduce the throbbing. 

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have time to dwell on his mistake or hsi pain because his phone went off. Ringing loudly, even though no one used actual phone calls, anymore. 

He groaned as he picked up. “What is it Yeosang?”

“Wow, what a nice way of picking up for a friend,” Yeosang sniped but Wooyoung just mumbled a _ fuck you _ . “Anyways, I was calling because _ what the fuck, Wooyoung _?” 

It felt like he was shouting into his ear and that woke Wooyoung right up. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“I mean,” Yeosang said, slowly, but it just sounded like his patience was being tested. “What the fuck did you do to San?”

That was the first time he’d heard his name in a few days. “I have literally no clue what you’re on about, man,” Wooyoung deadpanned. Half truth.

“He’s a fucking mess. You broke him.” 

This earned a sharp, insincere laugh from Wooyoung. “_ I _broke him?”

“Yes. _ You _ broke him.” It was like a word game between children. 

Wooyoung shook his head, it throbbed but it was nothing compared to the pain in his chest. “Look, I don’t know what he told you but –”

“What he _ told _ me wasn’t much, but I’m good at connecting the dots and you two have been dancing around each other for way too long for this to be your breaking point.”

Wooyoung bit his lip. “It’s not a dance if only one person is trying.”

“Yeah, _ him _.” 

“What?”

“He was the only one trying, Wooyoung, are you kidding me?” Yeosang sounded so pissed. “He was always the one throwing himself at you, trying to get your attention, trying to make you happy, trying to be the fucking light in your life and you would just push him away.”

The air in Wooyoung’s room must’ve been cut off because he suddenly couldn’t breathe. “What?” he parroted, because he couldn’t do anything else. 

“He was _ killing himself _ sleeping with you, don’t you get it? How damn dense could you be, Wooyoung?” he sounded beyond pissed.

“I… what?” 

“Jung Wooyoung if you don’t go the _ fuck _ over to talk to him, right now. I will shoot you.” Now he sounded serious. 

Wooyoung was off the phone and out the room before the call even ended. 

❖

His short cut route to San’s dorm took even less time as a result of his sprinting. He threw himself over the fence and dove over the hedges in an effort to get there as fast as he could. He didn’t stop when he raced by Mingi and Yunho, who looked confused at his antics. He didn’t hesitate when he flew by Jongho and Hongjoong, who looked like they had something to tell him. He only had one person on his mind. 

The stairs only barely slowed him down and he thanked his constant brutal workouts for this. When he reached San’s door he was a panting, sweating mess. 

But he knocked without hesitation, because there wasn’t a point. 

San opened the door. His eyes were red and puffy, his hair was messy, his lips were turned into a frown. He looked tired and confused. “Wooyoung?”

“Is your roommate home?” Wooyoung immediately asked and San shook his head. “Can I come in?”

San opened the door a little wider and he walked in, already very familiar with the place. They stood across from each other, awkwardly. San leaned back on his bed. “Why are you here, Wooyoung?”

He opened his mouth, closed it again. “I missed you.” He settled for speaking from his heart, not his head. 

San let out a hollow laugh. “I would’ve killed to hear you say that with so much conviction before.”

Wooyoung looked at him with wide eyes. “You wouldn’t now?”

“I don’t know,” San shrugged. 

Wooyoung swallowed and started walking forward, until he was right in front of the other. “Yeosang called me.”

“Okay.”

“That’s why I came.”

“Okay.”

Wooyoung shifted his weight. He was too scared to reach out and touch him, because San would feel the shaking of his hands if he did. “I wanted to ask you something.” San nodded and Wooyoung took that as his one chance to keep going. “A couple of days ago, you told me that you thought we were arguing about different things.” San tensed. “What were you referring to?”

San hesitated a moment. It was a long, long moment. Wooyoung was about to speak again when he saw something silver on San’s cheek. It wasn’t quite silver though it was more – “fuck you, Wooyoung. Fuck you and everything you do to me.”

He was crying. Wooyoung reached out but his hand was shoved away. “San…”

“You never got it, you were always such a fucking idiot,” San breathed. “Every fucking time you looked at me I thought ‘this is it, this time he’s going to stay, he’s going to tell me to stay and he’s not going to leave me for someone else’. And every. Fucking. Time. I’m just wrong.” 

San stared at him with an unparalleled agony in his eyes. But Wooyoung didn’t get it. “But you were always sleeping around.”

“Are you kidding me?” San was seething. “Are you fucking kidding me? I haven’t touched a single person ever since you and I started whatever that was.” He pushed himself off the bed and shoved Wooyoung, hard. But he kept his hand on Wooyoung’s chest. “I was so fucking whipped for you, so damn loyal but I _ saw _ you at parties, sneaking off with people, hands all over their bodies and it just served as a constant, brutal reminder that I was nothing more than a toy to you.”

There was no stop to his tears. Wooyoung wanted to die.

San looked up at him and there was nothing Wooyoung could do to stop his heart from breaking. “You would fuck me, then you would fuck someone else. And every time I would tell myself, I won’t go back there. But you’d text me, or you’d touch me, and I just knew I’d take off my helmet in space if you asked me too.” San brought his other hand up and he was bunching Wooyoung’s shirt.

“You didn’t tell me,” Wooyoung whispered, lamely.

“Because _ you _ never failed to remind me that we were nothing. Over and over again, every time we fucked you were there to hammer it into my brain. It was _ your _ idea not to tell anyone and _ you’re _ the one that was always careful because _ you’re _ the one that cared. All it did was make me feel like I was worth nothing, that you were embarrassed to be sleeping with me.”

“That’s not true, you know that, San,” Wooyoung begged. 

“The truth gets muddled when you’re only conditioned with lies,” he whispered. “I was your toy who never touched anyone else.”

“But you… but I saw that guy at the party, and the guy leaving your dorm. You’re telling me that was not touching anyone?” He knew he was being unfair, but he didn’t care. 

San’s eyes widened, but it was out of anger and sadness more than surprise. He wasn’t caught. “So that’s what you were doing, then. Finding clues that weren’t even apart of the same game.” San whispered and Wooyoung’s stomach dropped, dreading what came next. “That _ guy _ you saw coming out of my dorm was my roommate’s last conquest, not mine. _ I _ was coming after him because he used my fucking cologne I was going to rip his arm off for it. Then you showed up and I just blanked, like the whipped, fucking loser I am.”

He shoved Wooyoung hard again, until the back of his thighs slammed against his roommate’s bed. “And that kid you saw me kissing? Was the first guy I’d touched in three months that wasn’t you. And it was purely to get you jealous. Because I wanted you off that guy and off anyone that wasn’t me. Why did you think I sucked you off? I wanted you to just choose me, for everything. For absolutely everything.” San hissed. 

Wooyoung froze. “San… I’m sorry.”

“I know. Damn it, Wooyoung, I know you are because you’re my best fucking friend but,” San bit his bottom lip. “_ I’m so fucking in love with you. _”

And that was it for Wooyoung. Tears burst from his eyes and he swore, loudly, because this wasn’t what he wanted. When he’d calmed down, he noticed San’s expression; he was completely shocked. “Yeosang told me,” Wooyoung’s voice was so fragile, so soft, “that we were dancing around each other. I had no idea what he meant, but now I do.” He took a little breath. “I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

San blinked. “What?”

“It’s only been you. No matter who I hooked up with or whatever I did, I only wanted you,” he sounded desperate. “I still do.”

“Are you fucking with me?” San asked, suddenly suspicious.

Wooyoung laughed through his streaming tears. “No, no, no, I’m not. I would never.”

San relaxed his hands and let go of his shirt. “I told Yeosang last year, after my birthday. I told him I was in love with you and he said I should tell you,” Wooyoung’s jaw dropped. “But I was way too scared to be rejected, so I didn’t tell you. I just let you fuck me, even when it was killing me. And you too, I guess.” He added with a soft smile. 

“Every time you left I thought I wasn’t going to make it,” Wooyoung admitted. 

“I’m sorry.”

But Wooyoung shook his head. “Are you kidding me? I’m the one that’s sorry.” He reached forward and wrapped his arms around San’s waist. “I made you feel like you were nothing to me when the complete opposite was true. I’m so, so, so, so fucking sorry.”

San tilted his mouth, until it was the perfect angle to Wooyoung’s lips. “Do you love me?”

He breathed, feeling the air between them grow static. “More than anything.”

“Then you don’t have to be sorry.” He sealed the space between them and Wooyoung tugged him toward his chest. 

He dug his tongue between San’s lips until they parted with a sigh, he probed and explored every crevice of his mouth with a newfound love. Rather, a new light. He was always in love, he just never let himself believe it. 

When San’s hands began wandering beneath his shirt, he shoved the other back and he fell gracefully onto his bed. Wooyoung stood over him, admiring the drying tears, the swollen lips, and his tight fitting clothes. “God, you’re really, really, really going to be the death of me, Choi San.”

“No,” he whispered. “You’ve already been the death of me.”

And Wooyoung leaned over him just to lock their lips. He kissed him hard, hard enough to bruise. But San’s gasping lead him to push forward. It was okay. It was always okay. He locked their fingers together and pulled both of their hands above San’s head. 

San broke free for a second. Wooyoung chased after him but stopped himself. San looked at him with so much vulnerability. “I don’t want you to fuck me tonight,” Wooyoung’s eyes widened, “I just want you to kiss me, please.”

Wooyoung let out a sigh. It was one of relief. “Anything you want, baby. Always.”

San laughed, then, it was hard enough for that attractive little snort to appear. It made Wooyoung smile. And the smile San gave him in return was worth a billion broken hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm terrible, awful, horrible at smut and angst is definitely more my jam but, you know, practice helps :')
> 
> I love WooSan and seeing barely any Ateez fics made me sad so I decided to contribute to society by writing one!!
> 
> I hope you guys like it! I'm a huge fan of comments so please leave them!!! <3 <3  
happy reading<3
> 
> [follow me on twitter!!](http://twitter.com/wired_roses)


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